


The Miraculous Job

by lightkeykid



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Humor, Leverage AU, no powers au, references to alcoholism, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightkeykid/pseuds/lightkeykid
Summary: When ex-insurance investigator Marinette is offered a job to aid a group of thieves retrieve stolen merchandise for Gabriel Agreste, she expects an easy payday. After all, these three are the best of the best: Nino the hacker, Chloé the hitter, and Alya the thief.All Marinette has to do is retrieve the designs and keep this band of thieves honest. But as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste & Chloé Bourgeois & Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Nino Lahiffe, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 18
Kudos: 42





	1. The Return of Ladybug

"Here's your coffee ma'am." The waitress placed the cup and saucer in front of her. Marinette nodded her thanks. Her first day back in Paris after three years and there was a rainstorm beating down outside. Typical.  She took the small flask out of her coat and tipped a little of the amber liquid into her coffee. The spoon's clinking was the only sound in the nearly empty café. 

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng?" A quiet voice disrupted Marinette at her designated coffee table. She looked up to see a well-dressed woman take the seat across from her. "My name is Nathalie Sancoeur."

She returned her attention to her coffee. "I am not interested in conversation, Ms. Sancoeur."

The woman adjusted her glasses and slightly smiled. "I'm not here to chat." She pulled out a portfolio from her bag and handed it to Marinette. "I want to offer you a job."

"I don't know why. I am no longer in the business of finding stolen paintings." Nonetheless, Marinette pulled the file closer and returned her attention to the woman in front of her.

"A woman of your caliber is renowned throughout the business world. Marinette “Ladybug” Dupain-Cheng is the one everyone requested to solve their cases. Over five years, you returned over 20 million euros of property to their rightful owners. What happened to you and your family is unfortunate and disgraceful."

Poor choice of words, Ms. Sancoeur, Marinette thought. "Bringing my parents into this will not help your case."

Nathalie's voice softened. "I understand, but hear out the offer first. My employer was recently robbed of his designs for Paris Fashion Week."

"Pity. Did he forget to back up his hard drive?" Marinette asked bitingly.

"No. A junior designer quit without notice, and the next week, the Vanily House of Fashion announced a brand new design they will enter into the competition at Fashion Week. We knew it was no coincidence."

"What is this contest?"

"The winner of this contest will reign over the European fashion market. It is prestige and shares on the line."

Marinette's interest was piqued, she could admit. To have such a stake in this game, the fashion company must be open to the public market. No couture only houses here. "Who is your employer?"

"He prefers confidentiality."

"And I prefer to not have this conversation, but here we are."

Nathalie paused and sighed. "Gabriel Agreste," she finally admitted. 

Marinette nodded. From what she heard, this was karma coming back to him for his cold nature. "And what will you have me do?"

"In your folder, I have your team. You will guide them to finding our designs in the Vanily servers."

She began leafing through the papers. The names jumped out at her instantly. 

"Alya? You hired Alya?" Marinette pondered that. "It won't work."

Nathalie raised a brow. "Why? Aren't these three the best in their field?"

"Well, yes. I've chased all three of them from time to time. They work alone; they always work alone." She returned the folder to Nathalie. "Not one of them is a team player."

"All they have to do is retrieve the designs. Upon completion, each will receive 50 thousand euros. For your cooperation, it's double compensation." That money could go a long way.

"And as a bonus," Nathalie added, "Vanily House of Fashion is insured by your old bosses at IYS. This is a chance to get vengeance against the people who let your family down." She placed a hand on Marinette's. 

She pulled her hand away quickly. Touching was foreign to her now. "Why do you even need me?" She tried to keep her tone even. 

Nathalie sat back with the confidence of a winner. "Thieves, we have. All we need now is one honest woman to watch them."

\---

One week later, Marinette found herself in an empty office across the road from the Vanily Building. A projector displayed a 3D model of the building on the wall. She had a clear line of sight to most of the floors. Luckily, the Vanily’s preferred a clear glass design. Very modern and helpful.

She had her plans ready, her binoculars out, and her ear piece in. All she could hope now is that the others cooperated. 

"Is everyone set?" She spoke into the comm. Peering through the binoculars, she found figures blending into the dark roof.

"What are these earbuds? They are 90s tech at best. I've got something way better, dude." Ah, Nino Lahiffe. Famous in the criminal world for hacking the Bank of Iceland at the age of 16, he was a young computer prodigy. "I've got something better." He handed Chloé a new comm.

"No surprises, Nino," she said sternly into the comm. 

"Don't worry, I'm Captain Discipline," he scoffed. She held her tongue. From what Marinette knew, he was undisciplined, but skilled. Whatever he did to their comms, they sounded cleaner than before.

-

(6 Years earlier, New York City)

The hotel manager and his head of security rushed down the hallway.

“Are you sure that it’s him in there?” The manager yelled over the din in the honeymoon suite.

“That’s what it said on the credit card for check in!” The security guard sputtered.

The manager turned ruddy with anger. “Just get the door open.”

The guard fumbled with his badge and swiped it against the entry. The manager forcefully opened the door to find a single young man with a turntable and a bunch of amplifiers.

Nino took off his headphones and grinned sheepishly. “Sup dudes?” He greeted them with a peace sign.

Instead of directing his ire at the erstwhile DJ, he glared at his subordinate. “Does that look like David Guetta to you?”

“To be fair, I do not know what he looks like…”

“Not like that!” The manager shouted, pointing. He turned to find that the youth was gone. leaving behind the amplifiers and the two baffled men.

\--

"You're not as useless as you look," a high-pitched voice taunted. Chloé Bourgeois and her signature blond ponytail came into focus.

"I don't even know what you do," Nino shot back at her. 

Marinette intervened."Don't snipe at each other."

"You don't have to babysit us, Dupain-Cheng," Chloé sneered. Marinette rolled her eyes. Out of everyone Agreste could have chosen as a hitter, he chose Paris's fallen rich girl. It wasn't her reputation that put a bitter taste in her mouth, but rather Chloé's personality as a whole. She and Chloé had been classmates in their younger years, and there was no love lost between them. When Chloé’s father lost his business and reelection in the same year, she vanished from the social scene. The same society that adored the mayor’s daughter shunned her in her time of need. Not until she joined IYS did she find Chloé again. It gave her joy to thwart her old nemesis’ plans; getting paid was a cherry on top. 

Still, Marinette accepted that there was no better choice. Chloé was scarily effective.

\--

(8 Years earlier, Prague)

The pub was crowded and filled with cigar smoke. Nearly every biker gang in the neighborhood gathered in the small dwelling to see this trade. Milos Doznal, the local crime boss, would finally get his hands on the treasure he had searched for all these years. Now all he had to was wait for the seller.

The door to the pub slammed open, and the crowd fell silent. In walked a woman with a long blond ponytail, dressed head to toe in leather and wore a pair of sunglasses on her head. She swung a pouch from her hands and slowly sauntered over to the large table where Milos waited for his contact. Wordlessly, she took the seat straight across from him.

Milos’s face darkened. “Madam, you are quite bold to walk into a notorious bar alone.”

The woman placed the pouch on the table. “Oh good, I was worried I walked into the wrong seedy establishment. I would hate to waste my precious time.” She pushed the pouch toward Milos. “I believe this is for you.”

He opened it to find what he searched for inside. The sealed Joe DiMaggio mint condition trading card. This beautiful woman was his seller? He almost regretted what he had to do next.

“Thank you madam.”

“I take my thanks in euros,” she answered, leaning back against the chair. 

Milos pocketed the card and snapped his fingers. The men surrounding him took out their pistols and trained them on the woman. 

She sighed and stood up. “You run this side of Prague, and you’re too cheap to pay for a baseball card? How sad,” she taunted.

“It’s a cost-saving measure, my dear.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps I forgot to introduce myself. It’s not dear. I am Chloé Bourgeois.” She then removed her sunglasses and placed them on the table.

For any bystander passing around the bar, they would have smartly ignored the hail of gunfire and grunts inside. Everyone not involved with the business deal escaped out the back door hoping to live another day.

As the chaos calmed down inside, Chloé picked up her sunglasses and placed them on her head once more. She took out a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and wiped the blood off her hands. Not her own of course. 

“Mr. Doznal, my payment please.”

Shocked, Milos gave her an envelope full of cash with a trembling hand. She snatched it out of his hands and stepped over the barely conscious bodies to exit the bar. Enough of the night was left to be salvageable.

\--

"Can I have one?" A third voice entered the conversation. She saw a figure handspring into view. Alya had arrived with her usual flair.

Marinette could practically hear the blush in Nino’s voice. "You can have the whole box."

"What's gonna happen when she founds out that you live with your mom?" Chloé stage whispered.

"It's the Age of the Geek. We run the world, bro."

"Whatever." Chloé seemed to turn away.

A soft humming entered the comms as the newcomer to the group readied her equipment. Marinette focused her binoculars to get a closer look.She was dressed in all black and her hair was bound in a cap. Typical. A thief couldn’t afford to have her locks all over the place; Alya least of all. One misplaced red hair would clap her in handcuffs.

Alya was a mystery to most, but not to Marinette. She did not make sense in a legal world. For Alya, life was black and white. Stealing was to survive, and stealing was all she knew anymore. Money, art, antiquities, anything was fair game for Alya to steal.

-

(20 Years earlier, Martinique)

Slap.

Alya felt the blow despite its actual target. She looked down at her feet, and above all, tried to avoid looking her foster father in the eye. His wife was huddled in the corner, clutching her red cheek. 

He stood in front of her, shaking the fox stuffed animal. “You thought you could take your little toy back without me knowing?” He shouted.

The little girl stood her ground despite her fear. Holding her tongue, she silently rose her gaze and met his fierce look.

“Claude, please. It’s just a toy!” Her foster mother begged.

He pushed her away once more. “No! She needs to learn her lesson.” He dangled the fox above Alya now. “You get Foxy back when I say you can. So be a good girl. Or,” he paused and leered at Alya. “A better thief.”

A few hours later, with Trixx the fox in her arms, Alya walked out of that last foster home. The only memento she left with that couple was a lit cigarette on top of a stack of old newspapers. It was not her fault that Claude smoked irresponsibly. She hugged Trixx and walked away from the burning house. Only the future was ahead of her now.

—

Marinette spoke into her comm and addressed the now complete group. “Now that you’re all here, let’s get started. The next guard rotation will start in 30 minutes. That’s enough for Alya to enter the renovation floor and unlock the service elevator. That will take Nino and Chloé down to the floor below you where the servers are housed.” She glanced back at her plans on the table. “With everything running smoothly, we should get them down to the servers in less than 5 minutes.”

Alya hummed a yes and tightened her rig. She took a step back to prepare for her descent. 

Marinette glanced at the roof.“Now on my count. Three, two-”

“YEE-HAW!” Alya swan dove off the roof. All Chloé and Nino could do was watch as she floated down to the target floor. 

“That’s 30 kilos of crazy in a 5 kilo bag,” Nino laughed. Chloé rolled her eyes and stepped back.

“I’m here.” Alya’s voice breathed into the comms. “It looks like there is a vibration sensor on the window.”

“Okay, no cutting, Alya. Use the binary laser.”

Less vibration that way, Marinette thought, and less chances of getting caught. She barely trusted these guys to get the job done at all, let alone finishing on Plan A.

A dropped glass pane later, Alya slunk smoothly into the room through the opening. She crouched low to the ground to stay out of the shot of any stray security cameras. No need to alert anybody in the guard room. What was the fun in that? The electrical room was right down the hall, and she could pick that lock in six seconds flat. Once she entered the room, she turned and locked the door. 

“In,” she said out loud. 

Marinette chuckled. “3 minutes Alya. Are you losing your touch?”

Alya bristled. “Not at all.” She plugged in the monitor to the security camera feed in the room. It looped the footage for the server hallway. Her connection also sent the visuals to Marinette. “They won’t see a thing. Getting the other two down.” She sent the elevator to the top to collect the other members.

Chloé grabbed their gear. “Copy. Let’s go, nerd.” She pushed Nino into the open elevator and punched the down button. Half a minute later, they arrived to their destination. At the end of the hallway was the server room and their prize. Nino rushed over and attached a device to the electronic lock.

“Three 16-digit passcodes? I salute you, sir,” he gushed. 

Chloé huffed. “Can you hurry it up?” He waved her impatience away. Hacking was an art, and this was Nino’s studio. He typed the commands into the keyboard, and the device began cracking the codes. He shot a cheeky grin at Chloé, who leaned against the wall. In return, she gave him a rude gesture.

Back in the other building, Marinette studied the guard room camera. “There are 12 guards on the duty roster, and only 8 in the room,” she said to Alya. “Do you see that?”

Alya glanced at the security footage again. “I can’t even tell who’s in there, and you know how many are there?” she said incredulously.

“Count the haircuts, Alya.”

“I would have missed that,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing!” She flipped through the different feeds and cursed. There were three guards headed straight for Nino and Chloé. “They started their walk through early. What the f-”

Marinette looked at the screens on the feed. “They’re doing their rounds early to watch the England v. France football game.”

Alya gauged their distance. “They’ll be at the servers in less than a minute.”

Nino’s voice broke through. “Hey, what’s happening?” 

Both Alya and Chloé began talking over each other, but Marinette blocked all three of them out for a moment. She closed her eyes and thought about their dilemma. One moment of clarity was all she needed. 

“Okay, Alya. This is what I need you to do. Send a bug into their comm frequencies and isolate the guards on duty. Don’t give them any backup. Chloé,” she said firmly.

“Yeah?”

“Use Nino as bait.”

Nino sputtered in confusion. “Use me as what?” He looked at Chloé. She wore a feral grin and waved goodbye as she walked away. Nino returned his attention to the lock. “Come on dude, work with me.” He heard the footsteps coming down the hallway. A quick scan showed Chloé had abandoned him. “Forget this!” He grunted and grabbed the bag.

“Hey! Put your hands up in the air.” Nino found four men aiming their guns straight at his face. He raised the bag with his hands.

The guard in front grunted. “Drop the bag.” 

Nino complied and relaxed his hand. As his grip released the bag, he found Chloé and her feral grin behind the guards. In the time it took for the bag to fall, the woman had disarmed all four of the guards as well as knocking them out. Nino stood dumbfounded. 

As she stood up, she met his eye and smirked. “That’s what I do.”

Before Nino could comment any further, the door to the server room unlocked. “We have access,” he told Marinette and Alya.

“Okay, hurry and get the designs. We don’t have any time to waste.” Marinette let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. So far, so good. Only minor complications. All they needed was to get out of there now.

Nino found the files and deleted them off the Vanily servers. “I even left them a few nasty bugs to deal with tomorrow.”

“Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed their gear from Nino and walked toward the elevator.

“Bad news guys,” Alya groaned. “Those security guards reset the elevator locks when they found it open.”

Chloé growled. “What does that mean?”

“We can’t go up.”

She would not stomp her foot and whine. She was not that little rich girl anymore.  “Fine. Every woman for herself,” she huffed.

She felt a tug on her bag. She turned and found Nino’s fuming face.“Hey, I’m the one with the merchandise.”

“I’m the one with an exit!” Alya chimed in.

“And I’m the one with a plan,” Marinette ended the conversation. “I know you three don’t work well with others, but if you stick with me for five more minutes, I will get you out.”

“I don’t trust these guys Marinette,” Alya said first. 

Marinette paused a second, and then asked, “Do you trust me?”

A beat later, Chloé answered. “Of course. You’re the good guy here.”

“Then let me do my job. Alya, get down to their elevator. We’re moving to the Star Scam.” All three grunted into the comms and made their way to the elevator. Alya came through the top hatch and landed between Nino and Chloé who were changing.

“Onto Plan B then?” Alya asked.

Marinette smirked at the thought. “More like Plan H.”

“So many plans do you have? Is there a Plan M?” Nino wondered while he buttoned up his shirt.

“Yeah. Nino dies in Plan M,” she quipped as she gathered her papers. Time to wrap this up.

“I like Plan M.” Chloé grunted as she pulled up her stockings. Her favorite sunglasses were perched on her nose. She tied a silk scarf around her neck, and she turned to face the other two. Alya was dressed in a slim pantsuit and wore chic glasses. Nino wore a similar suit and held a portfolio in his hands. She looked them up and down, giving them a slight nod of approval. “Good enough.”

The elevator beeped and signaled the ground floor. Alya led them out into the foyer of the building. The security guard at the desk approached them slowly, his hand reaching for the taser at his side. “There’s not supposed to be anyone in the building.”

Nino opened his mouth to speak, but Alya beat him to it. “We have three weeks until Fashion Week, and you think our designers care about when they should be in the building. If not for them, you wouldn’t have this job!” She scolded.

“I can’t work in conditions like this,” Chloé moaned as she leaned against Nino. She dropped her head pitifully on his shoulder. 

“See what you’ve done? All she wanted was to go home to rest. What’s your name? If we lose our contracts, I’ll tell Madame Vanily who distressed her star designer.” Nino peered at the guards badge. 

He pivoted away from Nino’s gaze. “I apologize, madam. Please, feel free to come and go as you please.” He gestured for them to walk out the door. Nino pulled Chloé out as she still leaned on him for support.

“You shouldn’t have interfered in the first place,” Alya continued to scold him as she followed closely behind. “You sicken me!” She threw a final parting shot as they exited into the Parisian evening. In front of them on the road, a car pulled up, and Marinette rolled down the window. 

“Need a lift?”

Nino chuckled as they hurried into the sedan, and Alya claimed the front seat. Even Chloé had a wan smile on her face. As Marinette drove off into the night, she repressed the feeling of how their success felt. 

They gathered under the Eiffel Tower to watch Nino send the files to the Agrestes. 

Marinette rubbed her arms up and down. “Come on, what’s taking so long?”

“I’ve gotta do this on the public WiFi, but there’s a lot of crappy bandwidth. I’ll be done in three, two, one. Sent!” Nino pumped his fist in the air.

“Good, your money should be in your accounts by the evening.” 

Nino put his laptop in his bag and addressed all three women. “That was actually kinda fun, wasn’t it?” 

“Well, this was a one-time job. No encores,” Chloé sneered.

“I already forgot your names,” Alya added.

“And I am not a thief,” Marinette ended.

Chloé raised a brow. “Except you were tonight.”

Marinette didn’t take the bait Chloé lured in front of her. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away. She needed a stiff drink and a long nap.

\---

The phone's ringing woke Marinette up. For a second, it felt like she was back in her room at the top of her parent's bakery. Instead of smelling fresh baked bread though, all she smelled was the acrid scent of smoke. She sat up quickly once she registered that this wasn't the bakery. She was in a spartan hotel room with no personality and a blaring phone.

"Hello?" She croaked into the mouthpiece.

"Mr. Agreste is highly disappointed in you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng," Nathalie's voice came through the other end. 

"What?"

"We never received the designs that you said were sent."

Marinette rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "I saw them go out myself."

"Well you were fooled."

"It's not my fault. You are the one who hired career criminals to do this job."

"And we hired you to keep them in line," a foreign voice snapped back. It must be the infamous Gabriel Agreste. A chill ran down Marinette’s back at the frost in his tone. "I am freezing the payments right now." A click indicated he ended the call.

Marinette grunted. "Just wait a second. We can discuss this. Let me come to your offices."

"I'll send you the address to one of our textile warehouses in the outskirts of town. We can meet there." With a click, she hung up the phone. 

Marinette dropped her head on her pillow. Today was shaping up to be a long day. Hopefully, the other three didn’t do anything rash. She wasn’t kidding when she said that they only worked alone. Three loose cannons like that were just waiting to explode at someone. Marinette did not want to get caught in the crossfire.

An hour later, she walked up to the warehouse. There were two voices loudly arguing inside. Slowly, she stepped inside and attempted to identify who it was. Peering around a corner, she found Nino and Chloé. 

“What did you do?” Nino shouted and waved a gun in her face. 

Chloé, to her credit, did not respond with anything but a sneer. “How could I have done anything? The designs were with you the whole time.”

Nino sputtered. “You might have done something in the elevator!” His grip on the gun was shaky. Marinette decided it was time to intervene before things got even worse.

“Hey!” She drew their attention away from each other.

Chloe much preferred her as a target anyway. “Was it you? You’re the only one who ever played both sides.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone with a gun pointed at her face.”

She shrugged. “Safety’s off.”

“No it isn’t,” Nino argued.

Marinette agreed with Chloé, “No, it is.” Nino relaxed his stance to study the gun. She took the opportunity to disarm him, and release the safety. “Now we need to figure out what happened last night.”

A sound echoed in the empty warehouse. Another safety being released. The three turned to find Alya walking toward them with a grim look on her face. “My money’s not in my account. That makes me sad, in my special angry place,” she said calmly, eying everyone around her.

Nino backed up awfully quickly for someone who was waving a gun around earlier. “Hey, none of us got paid.”

“This was supposed to be a walkaway. I wasn’t supposed to see any of you again. Least of all you, Dupain-Cheng.”

With her words, the dots connected in Marinette’s mind. All she could do in that moment was double over in laughter. “That’s true. How else would you get us all here in the same place…” she trailed off as the full picture appeared. “If only to tell us that we aren’t getting paid.” 

Alarm rose on everyone’s faces as the need to escape was imminent. The sweet smell of an accelerant penetrated her thoughts. “Everybody out now!” Marinette shouted and bolted to open the garage door. The other three followed closely behind. She held the door high enough to let the others out. Alya was out first. Chloé would have been close behind her if she hadn’t stopped to grab Nino who tripped on a loose cable. She hauled him up by the collar of his shirt and supported him out. Once they were clear, Marinette followed them out. They made it to Marinette’s car safely.

“Maybe they didn’t-” Nino didn’t get to finish his sentence before the warehouse blew up.

Alya turned to him. “You were saying?”

“Come on, we need to get out of here. The cops will be here any minute.” Chloé jostled Marinette. “C’mon, Dupain-Cheng. Let’s go!”

For the second time in 24 hours, she found herself driving away with three thieves in tow. This time, however, there was no clear plan of where to go next.

\--

"Welcome to the Chateau Lahiffe." Nino led the ragtag group into a large apartment. All of them were dusty from their near escape, but free of too many injuries. Marinette was acutely aware of a drip of blood down the side of her forehead. He went straight to his computer setup. She followed closely behind. 

Chloé paced angrily. “I’m going to beat Agreste so badly,” she growled. 

Alya leaned against a pillar. “You won’t get within 50 meters. He knows your face. He knows all of our faces.”

“I don’t care. He tried to kill us.”

“More importantly,”Alya mused, “They didn’t pay us.”

Chloé looked at her dumbfounded. “How is that more important?” She hissed. Marinette had to agree.

“I take that personally.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” She pointed at Alya. 

Nino grabbed a few freshly printed papers off his desk. “Here are tickets to New York.” He handed one to Alya. “Milan.” Another to Chloé. “And London.” He tried to give it to Marinette, but she gave it back to him.

“You’re running?” She asked.

Chloé sniffed. “What else do you expect? They’re going to find out soon that we didn’t die, and then they’ll try again. I don’t want to be here for them to succeed.”

She stood quietly for a moment and then spoke, “No they’ll expect us to flee, and then Gabriel Agreste will get away with it. No, we got to hit back now while he thinks that we are gone. What exactly was in those designs we stole?” She asked Nino.

“How would I know?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I did chase you all before. I know how you work. You would have kept a copy.”

Nino sighed and nodded. He pulled up the copy of the designs. “These are definitely Vanily designs. I found watermarks embedded deep inside the code while we were in the server room. No need to fake those.”

“Gabriel Agreste stole the designs and didn’t plan to pay for them,” Chloé said. 

Alya added, “And as thieves, we can’t go to the police for breach.”

Marinette agreed. “No, but if you will work with me, one more time, we could possibly teach him and Nathalie Sancouer,” she nearly spat the name, “a lesson they will never forget.”

Chloé stepped forward first. “What’s in it for me?” she asked Marinette.

“Revenge. And if it goes right, a whole lot of money.”

Alya coughed. “And for me?”

Marinette smiled. Of course revenge didn’t interest Alya. “Money. And if it goes right, revenge.”

Nino chuckled. “Well, I was just going to send them a bunch of ugly ass dresses, but this sounds way better, man. Count me in.”

“What’s in it for you?” Alya asked. 

The tears sprang forward immediately, but she held them back. “They used my parents against me. For that, they’ll pay.” Marinette surreptitiously wiped her eyes. She turned to face both Alya and Chloé. They both nodded in return, and once again, Marinette let go of that breath she had been holding. 

“Okay, let’s go get Adrien.” She waved her hand to beckon them behind her. 

Chloé hung back in confusion. “What the hell is an Adrien?”

  



	2. A Miraculous Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final member of the crew is... the worst actor they've ever seen?

The next evening, Marinette slipped a 20 euro note to the box office attendant. “For the current showing of Macbeth, please.” She checked her watch. The play should be in Act II at this point. If they hurried, they would catch her favorite scene.

“Hah!” The attendant laughed. “They’re swatting flies in there. You can go in for free!”

Marinette nodded, while the other three exchanged nervous glances. She strolled into the theater and stood at the back.

“Um, why are we here dude?” Nino asked.

She shushed him. “It is rude to interrupt a performance.” She turned her attention back to the stage. There stood a man with wild, blond hair like sunshine and a somber look in his green eyes. He stood alone with a single spotlight in the darkness, his hand clutching nothing in the hand. Ah, Marinette guess correctly. Of course he was playing Macbeth.

“Is this a dagger!” Macbeth shouted furiously, jerked his fist back and forth. “Which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?” He threw himself on the ground and shouted into the air. “Come, let me clutch at thee!” Marinette mouthed the soliloquy with the actor.

Alya’s face contorted. What was happening here?

Nino’s hand rose to his mouth in horror. Surely not…

Chloé furrowed her brow and wore her trademark sneer.

“This. Is. Awful.” Nino’s words were deadpan but they were disturbed underneath.

“Is he injured?” Alya asked. “In the head?” She emphasized.

“He is the worst actor I’ve ever seen,” Chloé admitted to Marinette. “And I’ve seen some shitty actors.”

Marinette’s lip tugged up. “That’s because this is not his stage.” She exited the auditorium. This would be easier after the performance.

The four waited in the alley behind the theater. Chloé was still adamant that this was a bad idea. “I vote no!” She whined.

The back-door to the theater opened, and Marinette walked toward it. “Alya’s right. They know us.”

The blond actor walked out and buttoned his trench coat. Marinette clapped loudly, almost in fanfare and grabbed his attention. “I thought you were great.”

He looked up and recognition washed over his face. “My only fan,” he drawled in a British accent. The man slowly sauntered toward her and took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you again, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien Agreste said, before placing a kiss on the back of her hand. He met her gaze and winked.

—

(7 years earlier, London)

Sunlight streamed past the curtains into the dusty room. Clarridge’s, as always, was a goldmine for some wonderful art. Too bad that this would be his final trip here. From what he heard through the grapevine, the revered auction house and its new chief auctioneer will be improving security ten-fold. He was fortunate that he had quite the rapport with one of the art curators. A lovely woman, he mused.

He slid the knife carefully under the canvas. A 200-year old painting deserved the most tender care in the world. He loosened it from its current home. Some fool thought to overshadow the masterpiece inside of this garish frame. He chuckled; he would give it a much better home.

A crash at the door distracted him. He reached for the small pistol at his side. Not an elegant weapon, but a grifter could never be too careful.

“Freeze!” A feminine voice shouted. He turned with his gun and was pleasantly surprised. A younger woman wrapped in a red polka dot coat with striking blue eyes pointed her own weapon at him. Was that a hint of a French accent he detected? “Get away from my client’s property,” she said icily. The woman stepped closer to him, her heels not clacking like the other women in the auction house. This woman wore boots that she could run in; more likely, to chase.

“Oh no, how unfortunate. A lucky little ladybug is here to protect her prize. Whatever shall this black cat do?” He taunted her.

She did not react how he would have liked, such as dropping the weapon. Instead, she trained it on him. “Chat Noir, I presume.”

His reputation preceded him. Maybe he was luckier than he imagined. “So you know me?”

Now it was her turn for a smile, and it was the unholy mixture of dazzling and terrifying. “I do know you. You’ve had more aliases than anyone can count. By my count, you’ve done nearly every grift in the book. The infamous Chat Noir is a ghost that will steal from anyone with money.”

“Knowledge like that is a warning sign. I’ll give you one more.” Chat aimed for her shoulder and fired off one shot. She clutched it immediately. It was simply a distraction. An artful thief like him preferred to leave no blood evidence of his presence. A rubber bullet did the same job for him as a real one.

He felt the pain in his own shoulder before he registered the sound of the shot. His wound, unlike hers, was real. The smoke and dust danced in between them as they both pressed against their wounds. Hers would leave a bruise, while his would scar. How poetic.

The woman re-holstered her gun and withdrew a handkerchief. Gently, she removed his hand from his shoulder and quickly replaced it with the handkerchief. He was surprised there were not guards flocking to the sound of gunshots in the Clarridge’s basement. Yet that was a passing thought; most of his thoughts were spent in puzzling out this woman in front of him. First she shot him, and now she tended to his wound.

As if she could read his thoughts, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He looked once again into those striking eyes. He likened them to bluebells he had once seen in the Lake District as a child.

She spoke softly. “I don’t know everything about you, Chat Noir, but you should know one thing about me. I do not want your enmity nor your rancor. I simply responded in kind to your, how did you say, warning.”

“What is your name, Ms. Ladybug?” He whispered. She shook her head and replaced her hand with his. She left her handkerchief to stop the flowing of the wound. It was more of a nick than a scratch, but he appreciated her care.

“Stay out of trouble, kitty,” she cheekily warned as she left him in the dusty basement.

Chat Noir lifted the handkerchief and examined it. There was a bloodstained monogram in the corner.

MDC

He returned the cloth to his wound. He would find a way to return it to her one day, he vowed.

—

“The pleasure is mine, Adrien,” she said firmly. “Or should I introduce you as Chat Noir?”

The moment she said his alias, Chloé, Nino, and Alya gasped simultaneously. Of all the grifters in the world, Marinette was recruiting the most infamous of them all. Every criminal worth their salt reveled in the Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. After their initial meeting in London, Chat Noir spread word of his little moniker for her. Once he did, the criminal world was on the lookout for Ladybug the thief-catcher. He made her into a legend to be feared. In return, she spent a good portion of her career thwarting thieves and figuring out his true name. After all they had shared, it was all she could do.

“I’m a citizen now.” Adrien held his hands up. “Honest.”

Marinette tucked a lock of her hair back and met his green gaze. “I’m not.”

Both his brows raised in surprise. “You’re playing my side now?”

She nodded. “Are you in?”

He stared at her for a few seconds. She wondered what he thought of what he saw. Wondered if he saw the bags under her eyes from the last year of drinking. The scar hidden under her bangs from the fire. The weight of the past sitting on her shoulders.

Adrien nodded. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Good seeing you again, milady.”

Refusing to seem flustered in front of the team, Marinette steeled her nerves and faced the rest. “Okay, let’s go break the law just one more time!” Chloé rolled her eyes and began strutting away from the alley. Nino sighed and followed. She didn’t have a key to his apartment, and from his short experience of Chloé, he did not want to replace a broken door. Luckily, the theater was a few blocks away from home base.

Alya hung around for a few seconds. She debated whether or not to leave Marinette alone with this man. Chloé may barely trust her, but Alya judged Marinette on their own interactions. It was obvious there was a past between Marinette and Adrien. He was still holding her hand, for instance, and she let him. She almost left them alone when she heard the low rumble of thunder.

“Let’s go back to Nino’s?” Alya suggested. Both Marinette and Adrien jolted out of their reverie and nodded. Alya turned around and quirked her lips a little. Maybe one day, she could get the full story out of Adrien. He seemed more than willing to tell tales.

—

When they entered the apartment, Nino whisked Adrien away for a tour of the apartment. He pointed things out animatedly and explained all of his equipment. Adrien, to his credit, followed Nino without resistance.

Marinette softly smiled at that. Nino was still a kid compared to the rest of them. Adrien was not a good influence in the least, but he was better than any other man in his life. Better than most men, if she had to admit to herself.

She returned her attention to the papers on the kitchen island. Somewhere in here was the perfect way to take Gabriel Agreste down a peg. And if she could have some peace, maybe she would find it sometime before Fashion Week.

_Bang! Slam! Shut!_

Alya was making a racket in the kitchen. She opened up every cupboard and drawer. "There's nothing to eat in here." She pouted at Marinette. "Tell Nino to order in."

She opened her mouth to argue when Chloe walked through the door with multiple grocery bags. "I refuse to eat pizza for dinner again.” She shoved the bags into Alya’s arms. “Unpack these.” Chloé heaved a sigh and took off her sunglasses.

The thief scrunched her face when she saw what Chloé brought back with her. She withdrew packets of meat, cheeses, and bread. “None of this is cooked. What good is it right now?” She asked.

Chloé removed her coat and tied her hair out of her face. “I’m going to make dinner. If you’re hungry, you can eat it or leave it.” She eyed Marinette and her papers. Marinette took the hint and removed herself to the coffee table. At least there she wouldn’t be part of this fiasco. Before she settled on the couch, she poured herself a glass of scotch. Sip. The whisky left a trail of fire in her throat.

She peered over her shoulder to watch the girls. Chloé stood at the island and chopped onions. Alya reached for a cube of cheese and was rewarded with a smack on the hand. “Don’t touch that! What, were you raised in a cave?” Chloé grunted. Her harsh words didn’t affect Alya at all. Instead, she swiped a piece of bread and stuck her tongue out. Chloé rolled her eyes.

Marinette chuckled over her glass. She could feel Chloé’s glare boring through the back of her head. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she said back to the kitchen. The Chloé she knew in school would not even boil water. This Chloé was rougher around the edges. Not meaner necessarily; only different. Their interactions over the last decade were sporadic. Before, she was the thief-chaser. Now everything was off kilter, and Marinette simply adapted to reach equilibrium.

“Some of us have changed from childhood, Dupain-Cheng.” Her growl carried through the room. “I can do more than shop and bust heads you know.”

Her words struck a chord in Marinette. She put her papers down and turned around. “Really?”

Chloé picked up the chef’s knife in her right hand. “Hold a knife like this, and you can dice onions.” She twirled the knife into a different position. “Hold a knife like this, and you can cut, like, 8 Yakuza in ten seconds. Knives are like people and require context.”

Alya smiled at the display and grabbed another piece of bread while Chloé was distracted.

Nino and Adrien returned from the apartment tour. “Whoa, dudes, that smells pretty good. Even better than my Nana’s cooking!” Nino exclaimed, while Adrien sat down next to Marinette.

“Quite a team you’ve gathered here.”

“They’re not my team.”

Adrien grinned at her and scooted closer. “You may think so, but they think differently.” He nodded toward Nino. “He thinks you’re some kind of mastermind.”

“And what did you say?” She asked, curious to hear what he had to say.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alya poked her head between them.

Marinette jumped away from both Adrien and Alya. Gently, she placed the papers back in their folder and rose. “Excellent.” She ignored the warmth that was slowly dissipating from her right side. Adrien’s side.

As she washed up, she sighed. Bringing Adrien on was not a mistake. It might have been the best choice she made in a long time. Yet at the same time, Marinette knew that the infamous Chat Noir always had a trick up his sleeve. Nino, Chloé, and even Alya; she understood how each of them worked, what they could do. For Adrien, she knew what he could do. The problem was that she never pinpointed why he did it. Any of it.

It was an uncertainty she could not afford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a bonus chapter for you all! Adrien deserves an introduction fit for the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Leverage AU. If any of you have watched the orginal show, you'll notice that this chapter is very similar to the pilot. Don't worry, the second part is a different con! If you haven't watched Leverage yet, you definitely should. It is fantastic.


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